


No Substitute

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 15:17:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15933101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: Velveteen Dream knows what Aleister Black needs after Aleister loses the NXT Championship. He knows Aleister.





	No Substitute

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the July 25th episode of WWE NXT.

 

 

 

Dream makes sure he has everything just so before he starts looking for Aleister, even though there’s been something concerned growing roots deep in the pit of his toned stomach since that three count. Losing that spectacular golden accessory is going to dig into Aleister's soul, especially when Johnny Gargano, who’d been told to run along and keep his pretty nose out of it, tried to play vengeful hero and cost Aleister the match, that beautiful gold and all the heavy symbolism Aleister attached to it.

 

 

Well, Dream has no interest in working up a sweat defending himself tonight even if Aleister has an understandable mood. Dream is no man’s substitute. So he takes a little time, right up until that concern starts turning sour on him. Then he takes a walk.

 

 

Aleister is holed up in one of Full Sail's otherwise empty rooms, far from any noise and commotion. Dream will never understand the man's need to turn his striking face from the cameras. But here he is and not a candle in sight. He really is taking it hard. Dream’s concern blossoms painfully again.

 

 

He has a bag slung artfully over one shoulder and he knows he looks good framed just beyond the doorway, the dim light spilling artfully around him, bringing out the subtle glitter in the weave of his shirt. He knows Aleister has seen him, though the man insists on ignoring him, as though Dream hasn't just brought a little light to the depressing darkness of his evening. And now there are questions to be asked.

 

 

“I hope you've been hydrating because the Dream is not dragging you to the medics on his lonesome.”

 

 

Dream retrieves two water bottles from his bag; there's a slight twitch from Aleister's right eyebrow. There's relief and satisfaction turning the concern in the pit of Dream's stomach sweet again as he saunters closer, giving Aleister a much better perspective on the cut of his pants and giving himself a better angle on Aleister – bruising, cuts, but all clear-eyed. More sweet relief.

 

 

Dream offers the bottles between the fingers of one elegant hand. His manicure is still looking good; that shade of purple matches his shoes perfectly. Aleister takes the bottles without force and the way he dips his head is his gratitude talking. That’s only the start, of course.

 

 

Aleister has drained half a bottle already and is looking at both bottles intently, seeing answers or signs no one else ever does. Hopefully he hasn’t been seriously considering fasting yet. Dream has plans. He doesn’t sit, because he will make sacrifices but his pants deserve so much better. Instead, he splays a hand artfully, slowly, with tender purpose, through Aleister’s hair. It’s another question, because Aleister doesn’t always appreciate a personal touch, not even from Dream, and it’s been a dance between them before. It can prove insulting but Dream touches him anyway. It’s what he’s wanted since watching the match from backstage, and something in his bones unkinks beautifully at that contact. _Yes._

 

 

Aleister looks up, his eyes dark and piercing, his expression carved out of marble. It does something to Dream’s stomach, something unconnected to concern. His fingers caress Aleister’s scalp, asking the question again. Dream is here, so what will their dance be tonight? Aleister’s gaze searches him and Dream stays still, feeling as he always does under Aleister’s intensity – like a butterfly pinned in place, waiting, _waiting,_ for a full breath to come. Because out of everybody in this dreary place, Aleister is the one who truly understands the power of a wordless _moment_.

 

 

Dream trails his hand lower, runs a thumb over Aleister’s mouth. There are lips moving for a moment, more gratitude, then Aleister rises suddenly, smoothly, to his feet. Dream’s hand stays in place, their heads bend together, hair touching, then they move as one out towards the light.

 

 

*

 

 

The temperature inside the Dream’s house is perfectly balmy and Dream leaves his bags at the door for when the house gets cleaned and the plants watered. He gestures for Aleister to do the same. He can feel the look Aleister gives him, disapproval, amusement, the usual song. Dream ignores it and starts to turn on the lights, just enough to produce a flattering glow.

 

 

He can see Aleister still holding his bag and dismisses it with a flutter of elegant fingers, “Gina will see to that.”

 

 

Aleister shakes his head and won’t concede the bag, “I pack light.”

 

 

Even lighter now, without the belt. Dream doesn’t say it but Aleister’s eyes narrow as though he’s heard anyhow. Dream wouldn’t put it past him. He meets that gaze, a hand rising to flip up the dark lenses of his glasses before he sheds his jacket and the silk shirt beneath. There are hangers within reach so his clothing stays crease-free. He sees to them with practiced movements, his eyes still caressing Aleister, encouraging him not to abandon this mood, the one that always inevitably brews between them.

 

 

Aleister is watching him, amusement still present but now joined by a candlelight heat. It does wonderful things to the arrangement of Dream’s insides. He tucks his sunglasses into his shirt, now hung up of course, and drops a hand to unbutton his pants.

 

 

“Pool’s warm.”

 

 

Aleister’s surprise only shows in the raising of an eyebrow but he finally puts his bag down. He strips off his t-shirt and jeans without ceremony but Dream enjoys every inch of the tattooed view. There’s a bite to the cooler air outside as Dream leads the way and leaves his underwear on a lounger, glancing over his shoulder, making sure to catch Aleister’s eye as he steps down into the pool. Aleister isn’t far behind; the outdoor lights are only enhancing the inked patterns across his skin and Dream watches him sink into the water with greedy eyes. He’s never gotten anywhere by not taking what he wants.

 

 

The water will be good to Aleister’s bruises, the physical pain. For everything else, maybe he’ll meditate or light candles and chant, whatever it is he does when he’s alone and not thinking about the Dream. Dream has asked before but that song is circular as Aleister claims he’ll only speak the truth when Dream actually wants to hear about it, not when he’s trying to score points. He’s ridiculous and obnoxious, thinking he knows Dream’s mind. But Dream still asks. He is greedy for everything after all, especially when it comes to Aleister.

 

 

Aleister looks comfortable in the water, relaxed, and he swims strongly, stretching aching muscles. Dream floats and watches and then swims a few idle laps. He’ll do a serious set tomorrow morning before breakfast. This is pleasure time. They don’t talk because they don’t need to. Dream is content, warm satisfaction unfurling in his stomach as he watches Aleister. Dream knows what he’s doing.

 

 

“Had your fill?”

 

 

It’s Dream’s turn to raise an eyebrow, as Aleister stops swimming in straight lines and paddles close, his hair a wet slick down his back. He looks like a design he’d most likely have inked on his own skin, like something Dream has seen in several books that now make their home with him.

 

 

“The Dream is insatiable.”

 

 

There’s something close to a chuckle from Aleister as he draws close enough to Dream to kiss him. Dream allows Aleister to take his weight, deepening the kiss, running his tongue across Aleister’s bottom lip. There’s no hiding here, why would the Dream hide? And Aleister, for all his closed mouth and locked doors, has never hidden any intention. Dream can feel his intention right now, against his thigh, and slips a hand below the water to register interest in what's been rightfully his for months now.

 

 

There’s a noise deep in Aleister’s chest and then he speaks, they’re almost mouth to mouth.

 

 

“If this is about tonight-.”

 

 

Dream huffs out a deeply unimpressed breath. “I am _no one’s_ consolation prize.”

 

 

Aleister looks at him, intent again. Dream looks back, offence creeping under his skin and tensing him in a way he’s never found attractive. Aleister is disappointing him if he thinks Dream is offering himself to rebalance the scales after Aleister’s title loss. Dream looks good in gold and knows he’ll wear a belt better than any man before him but this is...this is about the loss but not in the way Aleister is bracing himself against.

 

 

Dream and Aleister count wins and losses differently to everybody else. That is a fact. Aleister has always seen things unorthodoxly; it’s what initially drew Dream’s attention. What kind of man was this, who wouldn’t acknowledge Dream? Who paid attention to things out of most people’s sight and believed in them in a way Dream has rarely encountered before? He is usually not the kind of man that thinks Dream would bring him into his home for a pity fuck.

 

 

They spend hours together and when they don’t Dream finds himself occupied by thoughts of Aleister and the books they both own now and the rosemary Dream keeps in his kitchen. This is as obvious as a victory from a Black Mass or a Purple Rainmaker. Maybe tonight put the nudge on it but this has been inevitable since they first laid eyes on each other.

 

 

Aleister kisses Dream again, deeper this time, and Dream can taste his desire, he can feel it in how Aleister’s arms surround him, mapping his skin, drawing patterns that don’t exist yet.

 

 

It’s not long before they’re both out of the water and unwilling to be parted, Aleister on his back on a lounger and Dream straddling him, because he knows this territory. There’s sun oil and condoms within reach because the Dream is always prepared for the moment. He works himself open with the art of long practice and enjoyment, but allows Aleister to lend a hand too. The combination makes Dream arch loudly, heat spreading through him as he moves. Then he's sliding his way down onto Aleister, ringed by lights and knowing how good he looks, bucking and riding and glimmering because the Dream does not sweat.

 

 

He savors how Aleister is looking at him, the intensity the man wears daily increasing and making the heat running through Dream reach even higher levels. He has Aleister's attention so totally, Dream sighs and moans and moves. He deserves this moment; Aleister isn't undeserving either. He's learning quickly the technique needed to please Dream and he's putting his attention to detail to extensive use.

 

 

When Dream can feel the moment approaching, he finds his hand knocked away from his cock and makes his displeasure known. But the noise becomes a groan because Aleister is taking him in hand and rapidly finding the amount of pressure Dream needs to come very loudly with his hips stuttering out of rhythm. That's not the Dream's style at all.

 

 

He tries not to choke on air and narrows his eyes at Aleister's growing smirk. That's not right at all. Dream rides Aleister without mercy, avoiding each other's bruises, giving Aleister no choice but to choke and come himself. That's better.

 

 

They look at each other for long moments, both breathing hard. Then Dream carefully removes himself, enjoying how Aleister's breath punches out. Satisfied and wrecked to a degree that Dream is unused to seeing on him is a very good look for Aleister. Aleister is glimmering too.

 

 

Dream arranges himself beside Aleister. Aleister's eyes are closed but one of his hands settles at Dream's hip with a noise Dream nudges closer to hear again. Satisfied warmth is his once more and there's something trembling in his chest too. He's not opposed to it.

 

 

“If you can make it inside after that work out, there's a shower big enough for both you and the Dream.”

 

 

Aleister cracks an eye open, his expression saying he heard that crack about his comparitive age. “I doubt it's big enough for both of us and your...self-confidence.”

 

 

Dream stares back and runs a finger across Aleister's chest piece. Kali looks as unimpressed as he feels.

 

 

“You can rune my doorways later.”

 

 

“I can.”

 

 

It's not quite a question and Dream locks their fingers together, prodding Aleister pointedly. This is the part where Aleister gets up. The man takes his cue with too much amusement and helps Dream to his feet, drawing them close again, his gaze assessing Dream in a way that isn't insulting. Dream enjoys it.

 

 

“There's rosemary in my kitchen.”

 

 

An eyebrow arches, another assessment. Dream starts to walk away, breaking their contact tauntingly.

 

 

“And allspice and cedar...”

 

 

He has an extensive pantry and a row of pots on the window sill. Dream favors purple but he has an extraordinary green thumb.

 

 

He doesn't look over his shoulder as he walks away. The carpet won't stain from water and Aleister's bag is here. He won't leave Dream, with so many offers hanging in the air, with that satisfaction-desire swelling inside of him. Dream knows he feels it too. He can read Aleister. The man is no riddle to him, as he seems to be to so many. It's laughable.

 

 

Like the huff of Aleister's breath right now, on his shoulder and neck. He's fast and Dream's breath catches. He knows Aleister is smirking again. Dream purses his lips, still refusing to glance back. There's so many moments still waiting for them, with and without gold.

 

 

_-the end_

 


End file.
